


A Certain Level of Wariness

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Because sometimes it's simply exhausting.





	A Certain Level of Wariness

Perhaps it was a bit of a reach for Severus to claim that he was the most skilled and impenetrable occulmens in all of the known world, but if he was to do so, it certainly would not have been unfounded. With Dumbledore’s own skill in legilimency, as well as that of the Dark Lord, learning how to guard himself and to seal up any remaining vulnerabilities that were exposed became essential.

He had lived like that for the past twenty years, it had started even before he’d come to Hogwarts as a student, a greasy-haired and sunken-eyed little boy whose robes had hung off of his shoulders because as much as he did look like his mother she certainly hadn’t been _this_ malnourished when she was eleven. He’d lived like that when Lucius Malfoy took one look at him and started studying him intently as if he was a particularly fascinating taxidermized specimen. 

And he’d lived like that when he’d become a spy, entangling himself in deceptions – one after another – so tightly that he’d not be able to escape even if he wanted to, and so far down that he no longer was familiar with what was inside. Not that he needed to be, of course – which was why Severus was so indifferent to it. Indeed he was aware that he’d never find companionship – of any kind – like this, but that wasn’t a new concept.

Until it had been very suddenly and abruptly turned on its head by one Rubeus Hagrid, a man so simple and linear in thought that Severus could hardly comprehend how he’d not been torn to pieces, because that’s how things _worked,_ you didn’t show vulnerability in the face of adversity, but apparently the rules of nature didn’t apply to the groundskeeper, like many _other_ rules, it seemed. As if to prove his own point, Snape shot a quick glance in the direction of that ridiculous pink umbrella which was leaning against the wall a few meters away. 

By all logic, Snape thought, it should have been _he_ who was at the advantage and not Hagrid – not after all those years that Severus had spent building up layer after layer of walls and shields, not after he had so carefully trained himself to not let even the smallest sliver of emotion cross his face – but instead it was Hagrid who had taken him apart and then right when he could have ended him, he chose instead to put him back together again with his own two hands. Those same hands that now rested on Severus’ waist and around his torso, thicker than tree trunks and no doubt as strong as a boa constrictor.

_I’ve always respected you, Professor, swear I have._

Severus doubted that it was possible at all, Hagrid had seen him at his worst, _consistently,_ for fifteen years, and given how protective that oaf was of those bloody Gryffindors he’d half expected him to hold nothing but contempt for the infamous head of Slytherin house, but Hagrid had always been drawn to danger – venomous creatures and the likes. Severus wondered, still lying awake, if he qualified as one of those aforementioned creatures. Something with fangs. Something guarded and defensive and quick to strike because that was the surest and most infallible way to survive, because everything else had the good sense to be too frightened or cautious to approach.

Except for Hagrid, who walked closer instead of backing away.

_There’s no shame in it, Professor –_

Oh, _that_ was hard to believe.

_Severus._

And the reassurances were the worst part. The softness was the sharpest blade of all, mostly because once he’d closed his eyes and once his shoulders had relaxed there was no way to convince himself that he didn’t both want and need this. And it disgusted him – years of work undone by two hands and a few words. He was absolutely repulsed – with himself. Yes, he was repulsed, and more than that he was _frightened,_ something he never would have dared to admit even to Dumbledore because vulnerability was perhaps more terrifying than any threat, be it of a lifetime in Azkaban or countless cruel curses.

It was terrifying. And that was exactly why Severus kept coming back.


End file.
